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friends,  I guess?” 
    “Cool. I guess?” he replies.
    “A bunch of us are going to the band’s rehearsal on Friday.  You gonna be there?”
    He looks pensive and replies, “I don’t know.  I mean, I knew about it ‘cause I help with their sound sometimes, but I didn’t hear about them needing me this Friday.” Then he quickly adds, “So does that mean you’re not doing anything Saturday night?”
    Whoa, is he asking me out or wanting me to work at The Space or what?  
    “Actually, I’m going to a party with Jake.”
    “Like a date?” he asks.   I laugh to myself because that’s the same thing I said to Jake. 
    “Just like a date.”
    “Are you with him?”  I must have looked at him funny, because he’s just staring at me questioningly. 
    I mumble, “I’m not WITH anybody.  It’s a date to a party with other people. I don’t know, Mavis.”
    “Mavis….that is classic” he laughs and walks away, quipping over his shoulder, ”Have Fun.”

 
     
     
    Chapter 6:  NOW-Still October
     
     
     
    Simon, the bassist with Charlie and Jake’s band, is thumping out the opening bass section of The White Stripe’s Seven Nation Army, and advocating loudly for his choice of band names.  “I’m telling you, man, Panty Drop.  It’s an awesome name.”
    “I don’t know, Simon, we’ll put it on the list,”  retorts Charlie.  “It sounds girlie or pretentious, something.  I’m not ruling it out altogether.  We need to keep thinking.”
    On a short break from rehearsing, the band, along with Jules, Mel, Kris, and I, are hanging out, kicking around ideas for a name.  The rehearsal space is in the back of a local music store, where Jake and Simon worked over the summer.  It’s a funky store that specializes in vintage guitars.   Many touring musicians go there when they are in town to purchase equipment or get instruments repaired.  The owner, a well respected musician himself, lets employees use the rehearsal space for free and has taken an interest in Charlie and Jake’s band.  The space is comfortable, put together with mismatched couches and chairs that look like rejects from Goodwill.  There is a large threadbare oriental rug under the instruments in the mocked up performance area.  Jake is seated next to me, one hand on my knee, the other holding the neck of his guitar, which is upright between his legs.  He is gently rubbing my knee with his fingers.  I admit to myself that I like it, really like it.  Every time he looks at me I feel a bit more at ease with letting him in, letting him get close.    The conversation has gotten a bit heated with each member of the group throwing out a different name or ideas about a name. “It should be a single word, easy to remember.” 
    “Water with Lemon.” 
    “Sounds like an acoustic, granola, hippie band.”
    “And it’s not a single word.”
    “Lame .”
    “Are you saying that it is a lame name or the band’s name should be Lame?”
    The group is getting punchy.  The ideas are starting to become ridiculous.
    “Ferret Bite.”
    “Spurge.”
    “Cougar Bait.”  Not bad.  All the guys in the band would fit that description.  Jules and I have a great time teasing them about that name.
    “Wait, wait, how about Officer Cox?” Charlie offers.
    “Where did that come from?”
    Charlie admits, “I got a speeding ticket on Manchester Road one day and I kid you not, the officer’s name was Cox.  I had to keep myself from laughing when I said, ‘Yes, Officer Cox,’ for fear of getting hauled in.”
    During a lull while the rest of the group is quiet, I offer, “How about Charlie’s name?”  Everyone turns their attention to me.  Whoa, now I’m on the spot. “I know you guys are a group, but the band was Charlie’s idea and he IS the lead singer.”  They are still listening, but giving me nothing from their expressions.
    Finally Jake jokingly says, “Call it ‘Charlie’s Band’?”
    “No, Charlie’s